by Rose Pearson
Jacintha followed her sister obediently, her stomach churning just a little. Lord Slate coming for dinner was not something to be worried about, yet she could not help but feel a little anxious. Glad that Jessica and Lord Warwick had agreed to join them, she linked arms with her sister as they descended the stairs, putting all the questions she had over Lord Slate and Henry out of her head for the time being. There would be time later to mull over these things.
“May I say how very beautiful you look this evening, Lady Jacintha?”
Jacintha smiled and nodded, aware that she had not blushed nor felt any kind of heat ripple up her spine. “Thank you, Lord Slate, you are very kind.”
He smiled at her again, his brown eyes seeming to warm in the candlelight. Jacintha looked away from him and saw Jessica surreptitiously studying them from across the table - before looking away altogether.
“You have been enjoying the time we have spent together, Lady Jacintha?”
Surprised at his question, Jacintha turned back to face Lord Slate and frowned. “What a strange question, my lord!”
He chuckled, and shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “It is, I will admit, but I must know your feelings before I continue with my next question.”
Jacintha felt something drop into her stomach, anxiety and nerves filling her. He was not about to propose to her, was he? Not here, not now, surely? Not in front of the rest of her family, not when she would struggle to find a way to tell him that she was not sure. She had swayed in her decision of what she would do should he propose, telling herself that she ought to know her own mind before that time came – but now it appeared that she did not yet have a clear answer.
Swallowing, she tried to keep her voice light. “Oh? What question is that, my lord?”
He smiled at her again, a slight gleam in his eye before he cleared his throat and caught the attention of the whole table.
“My Lord Duke, you have been most gracious in allowing me to court your dear daughter, Lady Jacintha. However, I have been dismayed to learn that you are feeling unwell and hope to return to the country soon.”
Jacintha’s father coughed gruffly. “It cannot be helped, I am afraid, Lord Slate. Although,” he continued, his eyes on Jacintha, “if you wished to come and stay for an extended visit, I’m sure that could be arranged.”
Her breath caught so quickly in her chest that Jacintha was sure Lord Slate had heard it. She closed her eyes for a moment before lowering her gaze, unable to look anywhere but her hands. The idea of Lord Slate in such close proximity was not one that brought joy to her heart. Why had her father not suggested such a thing to her before now?
“That is very kind of you, Your Grace, and I greatly appreciate such an invitation,” she heard Lord Slate say. “But, in fact, I had another suggestion I wanted to put to you.”
“Oh”? the Duke replied, lifting a brow. “And what is that?”
Wondering what it was Lord Slate had in mind, Jacintha lifted her gaze to his and saw him smiling broadly at her father.
“Well, Your Grace, I have heard that the sea air is very good for the constitution. In fact, it is highly recommended, I believe.”
“So I have heard,” the Duke replied, slowly.
“Well, my estate is directly above the sea, on the cliffs of Dover, in fact. I live near the small village of Ferryway and would be truly delighted if you and your daughters would come for a visit.”
Jacintha stared at Lord Slate for a moment, her hands tightening as her fingers twined together.
“A visit, you say?” her father boomed, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Well, that is very generous of you, I must say, Lord Slate.”
“Very generous,” Jacintha heard herself say, as Lord Slate beamed down at her.
“I was thinking of returning to the country very soon, however,” the Duke continued, carefully. “When did you think of returning to your home, Lord Slate?”
“I would be ready to go come the morning, should you ask it of me,” Lord Slate replied, carefully. “I am entirely at your disposal, Your Grace, and am truly delighted that you would consider my suggestion.”
The Duke chuckled, waving at Jacintha. “I am sure my daughter, in particular, would be delighted to visit with you, Lord Slate. Shall we leave in, say, two days’ time?”
Lord Slate beamed. “Capital! I very much look forward to your visit, Your Grace. And to your company, Lady Harmonia and Lady Jacintha.”
“I am sure we shall have a wonderful time,” Harmonia said, softly, her eyes bright. “Thank you, Lord Slate.”
Jacintha felt Jessica’s glare from across the table, realizing she had not thanked him for his offer. “Thank you, Lord Slate,” she managed to say, putting a smile on her face. “I am already looking forward to seeing your home.”
Lord Slate’s smile softened as he looked at her. “I am glad to hear it, Lady Jacintha. It is a wild but beautiful place, I confess.” He began to wax eloquent on the subject, leaving Jacintha with nothing to do other than to nod and smile, trying to hide the unsettled feeling growing steadily within her heart.
“You do not look altogether pleased with the arrangement, Jacintha,” Harmonia said, as they sat to take tea in the drawing room, leaving the men to their port. “Are you still struggling to decide about him?”
Jessica smiled ruefully as she sat down, reaching to pour the tea for the three of them. “I thought he was very kind to offer such a thing to papa, Jacintha, although I can see why it might then be difficult for you.”
“It is very kind,” Jacintha admitted, slumping in her chair. “I cannot take that from him but I am afraid that he will then propose to me and I still will not know what to say.”
Jessica frowned, studying her sister carefully. “I cannot quite understand your confusion, Jacintha. Why not settle on him? What is it about him?”
Knowing she was going to have to be honest, Jacintha sighed and shook her head. “I know Harmonia is aware and I am grateful to you for not saying a word, but I will be truthful with you, Jessica. Henry Musgrove returned to town for a time and I was able to converse with him.”
Jessica frowned. “And?”
“And he was like a different creature entirely,” Harmonia said, softly. “Very much like the gentleman we once knew.”
A look of dawning understanding came over Jessica’s face. “I see,” she said, quietly. “Then you are caught between affection and suitability.”
“Yes,” Jacintha admitted, hoping her sister might have some words for her that would bring clarity to her tumbling thoughts. “So what should I do?”
Jessica laughed softly, shaking her head. “My dear sister, it is not for me to tell you what to do or what to say or what to feel – only you can decide these things.
“But whom should I turn to?” Jacintha begged, a feeling of desperation growing within her. “I should not even be considering Henry, for one meeting does not confirm a man’s change of character.”
“And yet, you cannot stop thinking of him,” Harmonia added, with a small smile on her face. “You need not look so surprised, Jacintha. I do live alongside you, after all. It is not as though I cannot see what it is you are struggling with.”
Jacintha groaned, putting her head in her hands for a moment. “All I wanted was a simple choice, a convenient marriage. And now I find that I am tossed and pitched in all directions, tormented by my own thoughts. What am I to do?”
Jessica smiled softly, her eyes filled with understanding and compassion. “You are to go to Lord Slate’s home, spend time there and decide, once and for all, whether he is the gentleman you want to handfast to for the remainder of your days.”
“And what if I decide he is not the man?” Jacintha asked, lifting her gaze.
Jessica’s eyes sparkled with good humor. “Then you shall have your answer, my dear sister.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Henry? Come quickly!”
Henry sprang to attention, his desire to have a sh
ort rest under a rather large oak tree gone in an instant.
“Uncle? What is it?”
“The men have apprehended someone,” came the hasty reply. “Hurry now.”
Adrenaline shot through Henry’s veins as he threw a leg over the horse his uncle had brought him, following his uncle down onto the beach with only the moonlight as their guide. Beyond him, much further along the coast, he could see a few orange lights of the men with torches. There were shouts and cries coming towards him on the wind, making his entire body tighten with anticipation.
“Do we know where he came from?” he shouted, as his uncle rode alongside him. “How did they capture him?”
“Single boat out in the middle of the sea,” his uncle replied, his horse trotting along the sand. “They caught him with boxes filled with contraband. I just want to know where he was heading with it all.”
Henry frowned, looking over at his uncle. “You mean, he wasn’t coming to the shore?”
His uncle shot him a look. “No, of course not. We have patrols here. He was making his way from one of the caves out towards somewhere else, although I don’t know where.”
His horse tossed his head, clearly feeling the urgency that filled Henry. Some of the caves only filled with water during high tide, which meant that a man with a boat could only get in and out during certain times. But Henry was sure they’d searched as many caves as they could get to, so why hadn’t they spotted all this contraband? Where had the man been hiding it?
“I have as many questions as you,” his uncle shouted, as they drew nearer the men surrounding the prisoner. “Let’s just hope we can get some answers out of him.”
Henry threw his reins to another man and jumped down from his horse, striding forward into the crowd to see the smuggler. His heart jumping in his chest, he hurried after his uncle, expecting to see some large, burly man who had been forcibly tied down.
Instead, he saw a small, wiry man with a black eye and a scowl on his face. He had his hands tied behind his back but still remained standing, his short black hair in complete disarray.
“This is the smuggler?” he murmured, as his Uncle Roderick glanced back at him.
“Yes, this is the man,” his uncle replied, turning around to dismiss some of the men surrounding them. Waiting until they had gone a short distance away – leaving only himself, the smuggler, Henry and three other men who were guarding the man, he turned back to the smuggler and smiled.
“So, you finally got caught.”
The smuggler snorted, his lip curling. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
“I think you do,” Roderick replied, calmly. “I’m afraid there’s a heavy price for smuggling round these parts.”
The smuggler did not seem to care, rolling his eyes and sighing heavily. The flames of the torches threw shadows across his face, making him appear almost malevolent. Henry felt himself grow angry at the man’s disrespect of his uncle, at his lack of consideration for what he had done in smuggling and stepped forward.
“There isn’t going to be an easy way out,” he snarled, his hands tightening. “Tell us what we want to know and we might just be able to save you from the gallows.”
The man turned his beady eyes on Henry, a mirthful look on his face. “Do you really think the threat of gallows is going to scare me?”
Henry’s fists clenched tightly, but his uncle stepped forward, dragging the smuggler’s gaze back to him. “I suggest you start talking, my man, otherwise there will be no gallows for you.” The sound of a sword being pulled slowly from its scabbard met Henry’s ears and the smuggler’s smile began to fade.
“I will do what I must to get to the truth from you,” Roderick said, slowly, his sword now pointed at the man’s throat. “I do not mean to kill you, for that is for the courts, but I will make your life exceedingly painful if you do not talk to me.”
Henry watched as the tip of the sword was dragged over the man’s throat, leaving a thin line of red. The smuggler’s throat worked for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he looked back at Roderick as though wondering whether or not he would truly do as he said.
“I would not question him,” Henry said, softly. “He means every word.”
The smuggler’s eyes lit. “Then, if I talk, you’re to save me from the gallows.”
Henry snorted. “You’re not in a position to – ”
“Very well,” Roderick interrupted, his eyes fixed on the smuggler. “Tell us what we want to know and I assure you that your life will be spared, although I cannot imagine that prison is a much better prospect.”
The smuggler grinned. “At least there’s a chance of escaping from that place.”
Roderick shrugged, his sword now down by his side. “You have my word as a gentleman. Now, tell me about your contraband. Where were you headed with it?”
The smuggler studied Roderick for a moment, before shrugging. “I’m to take it from one cave to another. I have only done it once before.”
“A green boy, then,” Roderick muttered, darkly. “Who employs you?”
The smuggler shook his head. “I don’t rightly know. We don’t use names.”
“But there must be a man above you!” Henry exclaimed, wishing he could make the man speak more clearly. “What is his name?”
The man shrugged. “He’s just the captain. Like I said, we don’t use names.”
“Then what’s the name of your ship?” Roderick asked, sounding a little frustrated. “Every ship has a name.”
The smuggler laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t know much, do you? The ship signals us with lights and so on but nothing more than that. It’s dark, you see.” The mocking tone of the smuggler’s voice made Henry want to shake him so hard that his teeth rattled.
“Then where were you meant to be taking the contraband?” Roderick asked, slowly. “Tell me the truth, man, or it will be all the worse for you.”
There was a short pause. “I was meant to be taking it to a cave three along from the shore,” the smuggler said, quietly. “It has to be high tide so that I can get in with my boat.”
“But high tide means the caves will fill with water!” one of the men behind Henry said, sounding astonished. “That’s suicide!”
The smuggler snorted with derision. “You don’t know much about these caves. Not all of them are as they seem.”
“Meaning?” Henry said, surging forward to jab hard at the man’s chest.
The man’s sharp eyes bored into Henry’s. “Meaning that there’s more to them than meets the eye.”
Henry wanted to ask more, wanted to demand that the man tell him everything, but a sharp look from Roderick stopped him.
“I know that Lord Slate is involved somehow,” Roderick said, turning back to the smuggler. “What has he got to do with all this? It cannot be a coincidence that the caves you use are almost directly beneath his estate.”
A mulish look came over the smuggler’s face, his expression growing resolute. “I can’t say I’d know much about that,” he replied, firmly. “I do what I am told, and that’s all.”
“So you’re telling us you don’t know a thing about Lord Slate’s involvement?” Henry repeated, rolling his eyes. “How come I don’t believe you?”
Shrugging, the smuggler looked away. “Believe what you want.”
“I’ve heard enough,” Roderick declared, firmly. “Take him away, please. I have a few things to discuss with Henry.”
The other men took the smuggler back towards the village, no doubt to hand him over to the authorities, leaving Henry and Roderick standing on the sand.
“There’s more that he knows,” Henry muttered, thoroughly exasperated. “I know that Lord Slate is involved but the man won’t say another word!”
“Unfortunately, that’s to be expected,” his uncle replied, with a sigh. “Lord Slate is a powerful man and, even though we’ve promised the smuggler that he won’t lose his life, he’s probably aware that Lord Slate could arrange for it to happen if
he says too much. That’s why he’s keeping things to himself.”
“But you have no doubt that Lord Slate is involved?”
His uncle sighed heavily. “No doubt whatsoever, I’m afraid. The smuggler’s reluctance to speak only confirmed it.”
Henry ran one hand through his hair, suddenly caught up with thoughts of Jacintha. “I must go back to London and speak to Jacintha at once.”
“Are you sure that is wise?” Roderick asked, with a slight frown. “We have nothing concrete.”
“But we will,” Henry replied at once, a sense of urgency filling him. “And soon, surely?”
Roderick nodded, turning to gaze out across the sparkling waves. “I will have to do another search of those caves, although much more thoroughly. Whatever he meant in saying there was more to them than they appeared means there’s something we’ve missed.”
Henry nodded, his stomach churning. “And when can we search?”
“Not until low tide, I’m afraid, and certainly not until daylight,” Roderick answered, rubbing his forehead. “And, on top of which, we must make sure not to alert the rest of the smugglers.”
“Won’t they know we’ve caught one of their men?”
“They might,” Roderick admitted, “but we have to act with all secrecy regardless. If you are to return to London to speak with Jacintha, then you must do so privately. It would not do for Lord Slate himself to become aware of what we are doing.”
“I quite understand,” Henry replied, reaching out to shake his uncle’s hand. “I shall return to you as soon as I can. It will only be a conversation in London before I come back to you.”
“Make sure you rest,” his uncle warned, a slight smile playing around his mouth. “I would not have you collapsing on the road!”
Despite himself, Henry chuckled. “No, indeed. Thank you, uncle. I shall see you soon.”
Henry chose to take the carriage back to London instead of riding, even though he knew he would be faster on horseback. The truth was, he was so tired that he thought he might fall asleep on horseback so had opted to take the carriage. He had fallen asleep almost at once, despite the worry and anxiety growing within him.